Patriotism
by A Vampires Butterfly
Summary: Patriotism means a love for one's country...So what happen when a country...'Loves' himself? -USUK-


The attack on the Twin Towers would be something that changed his history forever. He could feel it, the way his stomach tightened and ached, the way his heart shuddered and thumped faster, the way adrenaline raced through his veins, even if he didn't know what he could attack.

He had all this pent up energy and felt jittery all the time. His leg bounced and his fingers taped at meetings. He breathed hard, even when he was just sitting. Everything ached all the time, though his wounds from that day were just scars now.

He didn't know what could fix it, what could make people feel better. He had failed them in a way. His land was supposed to be safe, wasn't it? He was such a good hero, they didn't know what it felt like to be attacked and now he didn't know what to do.

A gasp filled his bedroom, too loud to his ears, and his head flew back, thumping gently against his soft pillows. He wiggled on his back, completely restless. Breathless pants left him and he felt his glasses slipping down the edge of nose, slippery with his sweat. He bit his lip, eyes squeezing shut. Close…Close…His hand tightened, sliding up and down quickly. He just wanted this over with already!

After the attack, his people had been so upset. Everyone was so shocked and scared. Then, it was as if they all came to the same conclusion and his people began to express their love for him. There was this wave of passion that made him so happy and sad at the same time. People all over his country told the world just how amazing they thought he was, even after this terrifying attack. Creating shirts, songs, everything, as if to remind the world that they were still a strong people and that they were ready to fight back, even as they mourned.

His free hand clutched at his already wrinkled sheets and he moved his hand faster, feeling his stomach clench with heat. His toes curled and his heels dug into the mattress in a desperate attempt to get relief. Yes. Yes! He kept pumping even as he finally managed to get release.

A loud moan bounced off the covered walls and he gladly flopped, feeling completely boneless, back to his bed. Ignoring the stickiness on his hand and stomach, he turned his head and sighed into his pillow. It would just start all over again in about five minutes. What was the point of cleaning up something that was just going to get messed up again?

The only problem with this newly regained sense of love towards him was that it inspired him to some…Self loving. He couldn't help it! His people's thoughts were his and a huge majority of them were telling him that he deserved love and compassion after such a scare! And…As embarrassing as it was to admit, he didn't really have a leading lady to his hero act…So this was what he was reduced to.

"Oh no…No! Come on!" He made a crying sort of whining noise, lifting his head and then hitting it back against the pillow. He repeated this a couple times, even as he felt his body heating up. He felt exhausted and yet he was also filled with this horrible, buzzing sort of energy that wouldn't quit.

He knew it was because everyone was so upset and the patriotism was certainly making them feel a little better, the endorphins floating happily through him were proof of that. He even knew that all this…Love…Could really help boost up his morale and then he could get things back together! But his hand was getting sore and this just couldn't be healthy!

He glared at the erection he now sported and had a stare down with it, as if by he could make it go away with mere will power. But it won…It always did…And he squirmed, his hips thrusting uselessly. He wasn't even thinking of anything sexy! All he could think about was combating thoughts of that dreadful day and how amazing and powerful he was. He felt really dirty masturbating while thinking of that stuff, too. Like that day was something to get off on! He wasn't masochistic! Nor was he so narcissistic that thoughts of how cool and strong he was were something that made him horny!

"I'm dyin'!" he complained loudly to the empty room, as if the star spangled covered walls and general chaos that covered everything would help with his problem. It didn't, of course…

Damn it. He hadn't had this kind of problem since he had beaten Arthur after the Revolutionary War and got to feel the heat of patriotism for the first time. It had been as embarrassing back then as it was now. He hadn't known what to do and had fumbled around.

He had even tried to…Well, tried to get Francis to –ahem- help him with his new problem. The country had been a major support in his freedom gaining war and they had clicked in their 'Government for the people. By the people' ideas! But…He felt his face heat up even thinking about it. He had been embarrassed and awkward and France had laughed at him and even thinking about it made him want to hit himself for being so stupid.

"God damn it all." He didn't want to touch himself…The thoughts in his head gave a huge vote of disproval on the subject but…The problem twitched at him, reminding him it wasn't going to go away any time soon. He just couldn't win, could he? He kept reminding himself that it was a good thing that this was happening. It meant even with the attack, his people (and consequently him) were still standing strong!

He just wished something else wasn't stranding strong…

With a sigh of defeat, he reached his already sticky hand towards his new problem.

"Alfred…? Are you in there? Matthew called me, said he was worried! Why didn't you answer your door?" This was followed by several loud knocks to his bedroom door. Oh god no.

He shot up, unsure of what to do. His stomach felt like it had dropped and he broke into a quick cold sweat, knowing he had been caught doing something wrong. Arthur couldn't see him like this! Oh god. It smelled like…Like…He had been doing what he had been doing! Arthur would know! He would never let him live it down!

His eyes watched in bone chilling horror as the knob was jostled. It was scarier then any horror movie he had ever seen. Why hadn't he locked his door, damn it! He dove under his blanket, begging and praying that there weren't any stains on it and if there were that Arthur wouldn't notice. He pulled it all the way up to his neck just in time.

"Alfr-Oh. There you are."

They looked at each for a long moment. Alfred was just horrified (and more then a little concerned) that his erection hadn't softened in the slightest, even with Arthur staring at him. Damn but his people were persistent! Couldn't they stop singing about remembering destruction and wearing T-shirts proclaiming their never ending love for him for just one second! At least while Arthur was here…Oh god. The silence had gone on for too long. Arthur was giving him a look. He had to say something!

"Hi Arthur! Nice day, huh? Real sunny."

He was talking about the weather! All he wanted to do was touch himself and he was talking about the weather?! He was touched in the head…He needed an MRI, stat. But maybe Arthur would just go away. He had come in to check on him or something, right? Well he wasn't fine…But he was alive, so couldn't Arthur just go away? But instead of just turning around and hopefully shutting the door behind him, Arthur gave him an odd look, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"It's night, Alfred."

He whipped his head to look at the dented alarm clock by his bed and found that it was, in fact, night and Arthur was not lying. He had been doing this all day?! No wonder his hand was aching! He was suddenly relieved he had been cleaning himself up after each…Emission. Who knew how covered he would be after a day of this?

Speaking of which…He shifted under the tightly held blanket, feeling his most recent solved problem gluing the blanket to his stomach, even sticking to his chest. God he was going to die from embarrassment and not to mention how uncomfortable it would to get the blanket off.

"Oh yeah. I guess it is. Uh…What 'cha want?" he asked quickly. Arthur had to be leaving soon, right? Didn't he have stuff to do? Alfred began to pray that Arthur would just leave him be, that something would come up, that someone would die! Anything! _'Please just let Arthur leave! I'll never ask for anything ever again!'_ he promised silently, searching Arthur for any signs of leaving…

"Oh Alfred…" Arthur sighed at him and closed the door behind him with a small snap that seemed to seal his fate. God just really wasn't looking out for the good ole U. S. of A. lately…First 9-11, then the sudden patriotism that had been bothering him all day, and now this. Arthur walked the short distance from the door to his bed, sneering a little at the small pile of crumpled clothes on floor, before sitting at the foot of his bed.

That little move made him jump so fast, tugging his legs right to his chest, nearly knocking the breath of out of himself. He couldn't let Arthur touch him right now! Alfred just couldn't decide if the flip floppy feeling in his stomach was disgust _'Oh god, Arthur raised me, please don't let the sheet make a tent. .'_ Or was it…No. No it had to be disgust. Arthur was like an older brother, almost a father, even! That one time had just been out of desperation and confusion. He hadn't known any better. He was older now and more controlled.

The confused look Arthur gave him and his probably strange movements made him want to just melt into the bed. Instead, he managed to give a grin, as if he had no idea that any of this was weird at all. Arthur seemed to believe it and just gave a small sigh.

"I…I know I don't say this a lot, Alfred. But I feel that after…What happened." The older country gave him a look that had so much pity in it that Alfred couldn't decide whether he wanted to hug Arthur, punch the bastard, or rip off the blanket and point to the proof that he was going to be just fine after 'what happened'. Thank God Arthur continued to talk before he made a decision.

"Well, though we have certainly had our ups and downs, these days I can say with absolute certainty that you are my greatest ally. And…What I guess I'm trying to say is…"

Alfred knew Arthur was trying to be nice and understanding and caring and blah blah freaking blah. He just wanted Arthur to talk faster! Oh God…It was getting worse. He could feel it getting worse with every word Arthur was saying in that really stupid sounding accent. That he had never, ever liked. Actually. He hated Arthur's accent. No! He _loathed_ Arthur's accent. He loathed it so much he wanted to kiss him, and drag him under the blanket hiding him, and just shut him up so he could stop hearing that accent and start hearing silence or not silence but-

A hand on his knee jolted him so badly he nearly fell off the bed. Arthur was too busy being thoughtful and sympathetic to really notice. What the hell had he just been thinking? He looked at his arm, which had been midway raised and reaching towards…Oh dear sweet and holy Jesus on a pogo stick, what _had_ he been about to do?

"Just know, Alfred…That no matter what happens, myself and my people…We're with you and we'll help you in anyway you need." Arthur promised, looking so sincere, leaning towards him with that awkward little half smile he always got when he was saying something nice, but didn't really want to make a big deal out of it.

But he couldn't even recognize it. It felt like he had been punched in the gut and a wave of heat so strong and and…Oh God. It overwhelmed him. Now his people _and _Arthur's people all…Loved him. All wanted him to feel better; all wanted him to be stronger! Arthur loved him so much right now…He had to, right?

Arthur was getting more and more nervous as the silence went on and Alfred watched him resist the urge to fidget on the bed. His own breath was less breathing and more of an embarrassing and labored pant. The blanket got crushed in his fists and he felt his body lean closer to Arthur even as green eyes tried to get some kind of response.

"Alfred? Are you okay? You look…Flushed? You git! Did you let one your wounds get infected again?" Arthur flew back to anger, as if to take back any kind words he had ever said. Didn't matter. He was in physical pain at this point…And. Arthur loved him. The thought made him want to laugh. Crazy old bastard.

"Let me see you! I know that one on your shoulder was giving you trou-"

The grasp he had on that dumb tie was tight and the clash of lips, teeth, and tongue was made with a spark that made him want to yelp. Arthur didn't waste a minute, taking the surprise and punishing Alfred for it with a grip on his shoulders that made him wince. He broke the kiss with a gasp and pushed Arthur down, pinning him in a tackled like movement to the mattress.

"Can I take this as a 'thank you for you kindness, wonderful Arthur?'" The Brit looked up at him, seemingly unimpressed. Though that kiss had been anything but 'unimpressed' and the grin he gave in return told the older country his thoughts. The blushing cheeks made all the suffering he had been put through worth it. Well…At least the suffering of the past ten minutes.

"Somethin' like that. You hear about how much my people are lovin' me?" he asked conversationally, thrusting his hips suggestively against Arthur's. Realization seemed to hit the Brit and green eyes rolled with exasperation.

"Moron." Arthur bit out and Alfred felt with a sense of horror that Arthur was pushing him away, trying to wiggle out from under him. "I'm not going to lay here and let you let loose your little bout of patriotism on me."

"But Arthurrrrrr!" he whined out the name, keeping the older country with him with a well placed hand and even better placed hips. He couldn't let Arthur leave him like this! His hand ached and something else ached even more. And a hero didn't just throw himself at the nearest country. Arthur was like his leading lady in training! And…And…Well he'd take him on a date and bring him flowers and…His hips snapped by themselves, drawing a small gasp from himself and a glare from Arthur.

"You said you would help me! In anyway I needed! Well I need your help now!" His lips landed on Arthur's and then his cheek and then his neck, darting down to lay quick kisses to whatever skin he could reach. Arthur squirmed, turning his head to try and escape the assault and just revealing more of his neck to attack.

"Please Arthur, please please please…I need you." He pleaded between kisses, widening his eyes to gain sympathy, licking at a spot of skin lying behind Arthur's ear, a ticklish little spot that made the older country melt, a discovery that he quickly prospered from. His hands couldn't release Arthur's arms in fear that he would run for it, but he wanted to touch him…Wanted to pull off that stupid tie and yank off the dumb suit and-

"You can call all the shots…Just…Nn..Please Arthur?" he tried one more time, forcing himself to pull back. It wasn't easy but damn it. If Arthur wiggled away and he was forced to sit in this stupid, sticky bed and deal with all the patriotism pulsing through him by himself-! Well he'd probably go insane, but he'd let Arthur get away. Heroes didn't force themselves on people.

"F-fine."

"Huh?" he asked eloquently.

Arthur glared at him, cheeks puffed up and bright red. He kinda looked like a chipmunk…

"You look like a chipmunk." He informed, nodding and then kissed Arthur again as the Brit made a high pitched insulted noise, further inspiring the chipmunk theory. Any and all protests fell on deaf ears and the punches pounded onto his chest as his hands abandoned Arthur's arms were ignored with practiced ease. Instead, he made himself useful and yanked off Arthur's tie.

Pulling away from the kiss, Alfred realized with a hazy mind that Arthur was shouting at him and not in a good way. The tie in his hand and the cursing, open mouth seemed to click together and with an enlightened grin, the dark green material was shoved into the asking-for-it mouth. Alfred felt better and kissed around the tie, grinning happily at the glare he received.

"You have no idea how much this means to me, Iggy." He murmured affectionately and started to unbutton the stupid suit of doom that Arthur always seemed to be wearing. That's when he noticed Arthur reaching up to take out the tie. A sound of annoyance left him and the suit jacket was tugged back, Arthur was tugged up into a sitting position, he situated himself in the older country's lap, and Arthur's hands situated themselves to being trapped in the arms of his clothes.

"No more of that shit now! Damn Arthur! You suck at helping people!" he admonished, straddling the other's lap. Arthur seemed to try and say something but failed and instead glared and thrust his hips up hard. Alfred constantly couldn't tell if that was Arthur telling him he wanted to top or it was him trying to buck him off. He took it as the first option and gave a shrug.

"Okay with me. But I call tops next, kay?" he said, busying himself with unbuckling Arthur's pants, humming his national anthem. All that pent up energy was finally gonna be released and it was gonna feel good! He couldn't remember the last time he had the chance to do the bedroom hokey pokey. Maybe that one time during the Cold War…He winced and on instinct looked up at the ceiling and slapped a hand to the back of his neck.

But he quickly got back on track and took Arthur's cock out of his pants, almost surprised to see it almost as hard as his was…When had this started? Glancing at the blushing Arthur, who still looked kinda like a chipmunk, he tilted his head and rubbed himself against the hardness. Fuck yeah.

Arthur finally stopped glaring at him, eyes closing instead and pink, stretched lips seemed to be trying to form words or sounds that stayed muffled. Alfred…Liked that a lot. He grabbed Arthur's cock, positioning it for Arthur against his…Already prepared entrance. Arthur lifted a brow at him and he stuck his tongue out, refusing to answer the unspoken question. He did what he had to do to get off, okay?!

With a deep breath, he stopped any questioning looks, and dropped himself onto Arthur's cock. Shit! Okay…That had hurt a bit. Alfred winced and shifted uneasily in Arthur's lap. He didn't even have to look at Arthur to know he was being called an idiot. Another deep breath and some more adjusting before he was raising and lowering himself, searching for that spot that would make him see red, white, and blue stars.

"Ah! A-Arthur…You…You're like a…R-really gahhhh…Good! Dildo!" he panted out, bouncing himself up and down faster, getting Arthur's dick to hit that sought after spot over and over again. He gripped Arthur's shoulders tightly to keep himself balanced, head bowed as he tried to get his release as fast as he could.

"Stupid idiotic loony bastard!"

Alfred yelped as he was shoved onto the bed, Arthur suddenly above him and looking pissed. How had he-? Unknown to him, the tie and coat were now escaped from and discarded onto the floor. Arthur growled down at him, lifting up his legs and spreading them as wide as they would go, ignoring his squawk of protest.

"I. Am. Not. A. Chipmunk!" Arthur ground out, punctuating himself with deep, pounding thrusts. "You. Will. Not. Restrain. Me! You. Will. Not. Top! I. Am. Not. A. Dildo!" Arthur moved at an almost frenzied pace, seeming to have finished his rant and kissed him hard instead, lips too wet from the tie gag, teeth ripping at his lips until that curse covered tongue was allowed to invade his mouth.

He could only try his best to meet the thrusts, kissing back and wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck to keep their mouths attached. That patriotism was rising in him to the point where a million voices were roaring his ears, roaring his greatness, his praises, his awesomeness. They mixed with his and Arthur's kiss filled moans and the quick slap of skin against skin until Arthur grabbed his weeping cock and tugged with an expertise that Alfred knew he would later mock him for.

Now, it only made him scream in a way that was heard because Arthur pulled away just in time to not hinder its volume. Alfred arched up, feeling a wave of heat and energy leave him in a way that put all the ones of that day to shame.

When he somehow climbed down from his high, he could only cling to Arthur, hiding his face in the other's neck. For some reason, he felt tiny and angry and hurt. The voices had dimmed down to nothing more then whispers. How had this happened to him? It was the thought that everyone had been thinking…He clung tighter to Arthur as he heard that accented voice tell him it would be okay and that he would stay with him, reassuring him in a way he was sure no one else could.

"I love you, Arthur." He said as quietly as possible because he didn't want to screw whatever it was that was happening. The words held a meaning to them that he didn't understand, but felt had to be said.

Arthur tensed in his grip, not moving and not saying anything for a long time. Which was fine. He wasn't sure what there was to say. Alfred was just glad that his scars felt a little better, not quite so ready to be ripped back open and that the endless energy had cooled to its normal, hyper state instead of the intense need to do something of before…

He started to drift to sleep, utterly and completely exhausted. Arthur's arms around him were warm and gave him a sense of security he hadn't felt since he was tiny. When he woke up, he decided, he would be pissed about feeling that sense of security because he knew from experience security turned into possessiveness fast. But for now…Alfred smiled and allowed himself to cuddle into Arthur's side, falling into a sleep that starred dreams of himself defeating monsters that he could actually see.

Arthur watched his former colony fall asleep and quietly traced the ugly, puckered scars that were now to be worn and shown to the world. Never would he have thought he'd be willing to help this whelp again, not after all the trouble he had caused…

"I…Love you, too, Alfred." He murmured into a room where no one could hear him, in a world where the one country that called themselves a hero had finally been shocked to the core and the people of that country were putting it upon themselves to become patriots and to inspire a sense of pride for their phoenix country.

Arthur could get behind this sudden American love…He admired the way those dumb, grinning lips were now bruised and remembered the noises they made. The way that body spread beneath him and how shocked those blue eyes could get when he decided to make a surprise attack.

Patriotism, he decided with a smirk and a yawn, was the lovely thing, indeed.

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Hi there! Violet or A Vampires Butterfly here! I apologize to anyone who was offended by this. Believe me, I'm going to hell, you don't have to worry about it. The idea would just not leave me alone and I hope someone enjoyed the thought of patriotism making America horny. With much love, A Vampires Butterfly ^.^


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